My Curse
by ApocalypticPyro
Summary: The truth as to what being the Evenstar of her people really means. A completely AU, one-post vignette.


Title: My Curse  
  
Series: Lord of the Rings  
  
Summary: The truth as to what being the Evenstar of her people really means. A completely AU, one-post vignette.  
  
POV: Arwen Undómiel (1st Person)  
  
Timeframe: During ROTK.sometime.  
  
Author's Note: I had this idea while listening to depressing music and flipping through angsty pictures. I hope it's not as bad as my brother says it does. -.-''' annoying little punk.  
  
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The wind whipped around my ankles as I padded softly through the forest, chilling me down to my bones. The colder it got, the faster I ran, determined to reach my destination before the moon reached it's peak. The pain slowly started to set in, and I finally reached ba small clearing where sat a small hut with boarded up windows and a barred door.  
  
This was my fate, as the Evenstar of my people: to suffer their pain for them, to take every hit as if it were my own. Once every 30 days, I would retreat to this small building to endure the pain that had accumulated over the past 30 days in solitude. All of the physical pain of each elf-maid and man was borne by me, secluded in this small hut where I could do no harm to anyone.  
  
My fate.my curse.  
  
I painstakingly unbarred the door and opened it, stepping into the small, single-roomed shelter. Slowly I closed the door behind me, shutting the bolt with the last bit of strength I could muster. My eyes scanned the familiar room, completely bare with only a softly carpeted floor made of moss and flowers that my father had enchanted to stay fresh. Already there was blood staining the flowers, from my previous visits to this cottage.  
  
Then the pain came, hitting me like a blow to the head. I slumped down to the floor, eyes filling with tears as each cut appeared on my body, staining my white gown crimson. Drops of blood fell from cuts and scrapes along my arms and legs, falling onto the pale blue petals of the flowers that littered the floor like dewdrops. More and more pain came and went as time dragged on, leaving me in a bloody mess on the floor of the tiny house.  
  
The hours dragged on, my mind fading in and out of pain. Second after second ticked away, counting down my time to live. With each passing moment, the pain increased tenfold, wracking my body in waves. The light in my eyes slowly dimmed, and I felt the warmth sliding from my body, like a blanket being lifted from a sleeping child.  
  
Slowly I felt my consciousness slipping, fading into the darkness of the Shadow. The night was almost over, the first rays of morning sliding over the top of the Misty Mountains. I felt the familiar grasp of Death slowly close in around me, savoring the taste of my immortal death with a wicked pleasure. I let myself fall, fall into the endless, ominous pit that was Death.  
  
One by one, I saw the faces of the elves for which I bore the pain. Many of them I did not know, and I probably would never know them. But that was my fate, my destiny. Familiar faces flashed before me: Legolas, the Elven prince of Mirkwood; Thranduil, Legolas's father; Glorfindel, my friend; Elrond, my beloved father. Many more I recognized, and I touched each face, relieving them of their pain and suffering. One by one, the cuts that dotted my body faded, disappearing as their previous owner's face disappeared into the darkness. I curled my lips into a small smile when they stopped appearing, when all the wounds vanished completely.  
  
The icy grip of Death slowly released it's grasp on me, knowing with bitter envy that it could never keep me for more than the time it took my body to heal. When my eyes opened, I was back in the small hut, bloodstained dress still wet from the night before. Sun shone in through the cracks in the windows, landing on my face with a brilliant warmth. I rolled onto my stomach, then pushed myself up onto my knees, ignoring the blood that rolled off my body. In the corner was a change of clothes, another dark dress that I could use to change into after my ordeal. I slid out of the ruined dress and into the clean one, placing the ruined gown in the same corner.  
  
I unbolted the door, stepping out into the warm sunlight that danced in and out of the trees that surrounded the small cottage. Quietly, I began my long trek back to the sanctuary of my home, Rivendell, where my father was waiting, worried sick that he might lose me to Death during one such venture into the Shadow. He didn't seem to understand that I couldn't die like that, no matter how much the pain hurt.  
  
That too was a part of my curse. No matter how much I wanted to die because of the pain, I couldn't. Death, no matter how much it wanted me, couldn't allow me to die. I can only die by being slain, or by Sauron coming back into power. For you see, my fate is tied to the Ring, the One Ring, which Frodo now seeks to destroy. If he fails, Death will have me.  
  
The cold stone of the stairs at Rivendell send a shock through my body, reminding me of the void of Death. I walk quietly up to my rooms, where I collapse on my bed from exhaustion. My eyes flutter shut, unable to stay open for much longer. I let myself slip into a well-deserved rest; away from the pain, away from my obligations to my father.away from my curse. 


End file.
